


Why Would You Do That?

by Cheylock



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Depression, Healing, M/M, Mild Gore, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:03:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheylock/pseuds/Cheylock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles isn't even a semblance of okay anymore. He's thinking about it in terms of sacrifice, but to most people it means the same thing.</p><p>He is prepared to die.</p><p>More than prepared.</p><p>And Isaac won't fucking <em>let him</em>.</p><p>(Hunter/Wolf clash, Isaac takes a hit that wasn't meant for him, Depressed!Stiles 'verse, set somewhere around summer before senior year, pre-slash building into relationship like everything else I do, Sheriff is in the hospital but he's not going to die, Stiles doesn't know that though, no one you like dies unless you like hunters who don't follow the code, then all of the people you like die, vague OC mention at one point but it's not a big deal)</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Suspended indefinitely. Updates will be sporadic and cannot be guaranteed on any specific date. Sincere apologies.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Would You Do That?

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where this came from, it's a far cry from my usual fluff and I'm going to avoid dedicating it to anyone because it's kind of fucked up.
> 
> So this is for me I guess, and the person I was a long time ago, and for you, if you were ever stuck in a pit you didn't think you'd ever be able to crawl out of.
> 
> Give it time. It gets better.

Stiles isn't paying attention. 

It's not like this is uncommon exactly--for his mind to be somewhere else while there's important shit happening right in front of him that he needs to deal with--but it's a hell of a lot more dangerous than usual at the moment. 

He's doing recon around the perimeter of this big hunter/werewolf clash going on in the woods, binoculars and everything, and he's away from the worst of the fighting so he _should_ be okay. He's got his cellphone open and the call to Scott's remains connected, so he can shout for help if he needs it, and if they lose, well, he can hear that, too, and get the hell out of here. Mostly he's keeping an eye out for traps that might fuck their retreat up, if they need one, and he's not paying attention to anything but the task at hand. 

So when non-wolfed Isaac touches his shoulder, yeah, okay, he screams like he's just been stabbed. Whatever. 

"What the fuck do you _want_ , asshole! What the fuck! Why would you--what the--does this mean--" He turns to the side and jabbers into the cellphone for a second. "'M fine it would be nice if someone _told me though_." 

Stiles turns his face back to Isaac, definitely glaring and pinching his bottom lip between his teeth. He was not aware that he'd have a werewolf babysitter for this little escapade. "The fuck, dude." 

"We need to get out of here." 

Okay so they _are_ retreating. Stiles holds up the phone. "Dude, seriously, couldn't've just told me--" 

Isaac swats it out of his hands, claws out suddenly. "No. Stiles. Where's My Phone." 

Stiles can hear the capital letters. "Oh shit." His eyes dart around--he's definitely paying attention right now. He doesn't even _have_ that app, but he has no doubt that these motherfuckers could've snatched his phone and put it on there without him noticing. He's been pretty distracted lately, what with his dad in the hospital. 

He backs up and puts his body in front of Isaac's with his arms out, heart tearing up his chest, and he knows Isaac can hear it but he really doesn't give a shit. "Dude. Get behind me. Gameplan: Human Meat Shield may actually work. I'm human, they won't kill me." Probably. Sort-of probably. _Not even, Stiles_. 

He can't see Isaac's anything--all he sees in front of him are trees and dead brown leaves and a little flash of water he knows is the creek and a tripwire over on his right and holy fuck oh god the barrel of a gun. Well, that's that then. "Isaac?" 

The air goes out of him in a quick _foosh_ sound as Isaac grabs him around his midriff, lifts him, and _runs_. Stiles's feet come up automatically, to make it easier for the werewolf holding him up and bolting without his consent, and the forest turns into flashes of color and moonlight. Isaac is so _fast_ \--the wind from Isaac's velocity makes Stiles's dark brown hoodie billow open and he feels the legs of his pants flap and the air goes straight into his face, through his hair, down into his lungs, and there is only roaring in his ears. His eyes are streaming from the speed and, with the way the trees are slipping around as Isaac barrels around them at a steady and sickening clip, Stiles finally has to close his burning eyes. 

Just when he's pretty sure he's about to have to drop his legs--he can only hold them up with his arms for so long--the motion stops. He's immediately woozy; the jogging up-and-down motion that came with Isaac's running was more like being on a boat than riding in a car, and he's never been good with boats. He feels Isaac sit down and he's taking quick, thick breaths and he's sitting on Isaac's lap and he just doesn't even fucking care, his heart is pounding so hard he's pretty sure he's about to die, and then Isaac lets out a huge cry that is _definitely_  not human and not all yippy so Stiles knows he's not in pain, he's just calling the others... 

He comes down a little, comes back to himself, and Isaac still has his arms wrapped around Stiles like he's a fucking teddy bear ( _or a boyfriend_ ) so it's not like Stiles can get up. He can't even choke out words yet, he finally peels open his eyes and-- 

They're in the side parking lot, the out-of-the-way one Stiles is pretty sure he's the only who knows about, besides Derek and the other werewolves and the Argents, in the empty parking spot by his Jeep. The only other car he sees is Derek's Camaro. He gets that much before Scott's face suddenly appears three inches in front of his face, and he's being hugged and he thinks Isaac is being hugged, if the way he's suddenly squirming is any indication. 

"Holy fuck oh my god Isaac are you okay? You got him I can't believe you got him oh my god holy fuck I don't go to church I gotta start going to church holy shit I'm so glad you're okay." Scott sounds out of breath and he's all trembly and Stiles hugs him tightly even though his arms've gone soupy and even though he's suddenly pissed. 

"Dude, fuck you--is _Isaac_ okay? I was the one who was apparently being stalked by hunters or some shit, holy hell, dude, how am I not dead right now?" The hunters hadn't exactly taken a liking to him--in fact, he was pretty sure they hated him more than the wolves themselves. Something about betraying his species or something, he doesn't remember right now. He's getting really fucking sick of this tired 'hunters with a vendetta against every wolf ever' bullshit, though, that's getting old. 

Stiles swallows and asks the question he dreads and will always dread, but is always second to 'how am I not dead right now'. "Bodycount?" 

"Six." Aaand that's Derek, great. Stiles is guessing he's somewhere behind them. "I don't really know how you're not dead. There were four that broke off to take you." 

Isaac finally talks, breaths tearing around the edges a little. "He--he--he was surrounded. None of them were pointing at vital parts, I don't think--I think they--were gonna--try to--take him alive--" 

"Fat fucking chance." Stiles has a hypodermic in a case in his jacket just for that possibility. He has a lot of what they know stored in his head and if he gets taken, he doesn't trust himself not to blab. 

His dad is going. The guy's been comatose for the last week thanks to a ricochet from the range. Stiles can see that he's going, and Stiles didn't have that much to live for outside his dad anyway. He's willing to die to protect his friends, and parts of him are gone already, so a quick stab and then a flood of ketamine large enough to kill a horse... 

To be totally frank, he's kind of looking forward to it.  

Isaac still hasn't let him up. Stiles realizes he's trembling a little. "I went--because--I'm fastest--sorry if I--hurt you--" Isaac's breath is making tearing noises and Stiles finally gets off him, feeling much less winded, but he doesn't really move away, just kneels in front of him. 

He's looking at Isaac but he's speaking to Scott and Derek. "Why the fuck did you send him after me? How did you even _figure out_ that the hunters broke off to take me?" His jaw is set and he's aware that his eyes are distant glints in dark sockets. Lately, Stiles has been looking more and more like a skull. 

Isaac coughs for a second, a harsh, tearing noise, takes in a deep breath, and tries to make his exhales longer than his inhales, Stiles can see him doing it. He thinks maybe... 

He thinks maybe Isaac is having a panic attack. Isaac's not gasping so much anymore, and Stiles reaches out and lays a hand on his knee, unsure of how the gesture will be taken, _if_ it will be taken. Isaac could easily shake him off or growl at him or something and then he'd just feel even worse. 

For a moment he completely forgets about Scott and Derek behind him, flanking him like _he's_ the leader here, and he completely forgets that he even asked any questions. He makes eye contact with Isaac, concentrates, tries to give him something to focus on besides the terror. If he can help carry Isaac through this, he wants to try. It was his fault it happened. 

Stiles would be pretty freaked out too if he almost got his ass shot for somebody he didn't even like. 

He can't help but jump when Isaac moves his hand from the ground to Stiles's, and covers it. He doesn't move away, though. He doesn't seem capable. In pinning Isaac down with his stare, Stiles has inadvertently been pinned, as well.

 Isaac swallows and then--"Nobody sent me. I came to get you. I heard--I heard the big one, the one that smells like corn syrup--" 

"Brutus, Calvin Brutus," Derek provides, but Isaac just waves a hand at him jerkily, an impatient 'shut up' gesture that's massively childish. 

To Stiles's surprise, Sourwolf actually obeys somebody for once. 

"Doesn't matter--Stiles knows who I'm talking about." 

And Stiles does.  

When Stiles realized that sometimes people had particular smells, like coffee or gunsmoke or whatever, so etched into their scent that it was like a permanent thread included in their smell, he'd started a catalogue, and Isaac was the only one who didn't seem to mind helping. He just kind of went along. Very easygoing, usually. 

Stiles thought it was admirable, for somebody who turned into an anthromorphic wolf demon-looking thing every full moon. 

"Anyway--Corn Syrup--used a-a walkie-talkie or something--said that 'the bush baby is doing a circuit' and to 'pinpoint with who what how'--they need better codes. There wasn't time to tell anyone else and they could've heard, so I came to--to get you." 

Stiles blinks a few times. He can sense Derek and Scott shifting uncomfortably behind him, and he guesses this is the first they've heard of this, too. He's right on the fence between impressed and pissed beyond reason, and of course the only thing that pops out of his mouth is " _Bush_ baby? Are you shitting me?" 

And wonder of wonders, Isaac actually laughs. He lowers himself to the asphalt fully, hair tousled all to hell, dirt and leaves suck to his jeans halfway up his thighs, hands shaking, and he laughs. Stiles can't remember ever making Isaac laugh before. 

The sound is pure relief. Stiles blinks again, and then lets out a little half-chuckle. He looks over his shoulder at Scott, who's looking at him like he's an entirely different person. Stiles can't figure out why for a moment, and then he knows. 

That's the first joke he's cracked in almost a week. 

He stopped trying to be funny about the same time his life stopped trying to be livable. 

"Okay, okay, so the hunters have-- _had_ \--bullshit horrible codes, that's good to know, but why didn't _you_ \--" He rounded on Derek then, feeling a familiar blazing irritation bloom in his eyes, knowing they'd been semi-flat for almost a month now. He was kind of freaking out a little now, it was like his feelings were coming back online, he didn't _like_ it. "--go after him or _stop_ him or something? And how did _you_ figure out where the other four went?" 

Derek rolls his eyes, lifting his arms up and crossing them, and then eyes Stiles with a familiar you're-fucking-dumb look of judgement. It makes him feel just as impatient as it usually does. He licks his top teeth under his lip and waves his hand--the one that's _not_ still resting on Isaac's knee, wow, maybe he should move that--in his traditional 'hurry the fuck up we don't have all day' gesture. 

He tries to pretend that Derek doesn't look relieved, too. "I was kind of busy. It was easy to figure out what happened once we did the body count and realized four of them were missing and Isaac wasn't dead or present. It either had something to do with you or he was kidnapped, and he'd taken Scott's phone with him, so we guessed it was you. The Argents'd cleared out by then--they don't stick around for the body count anymore--and there was no way to figure out where the hell you were, so we just waited until we heard Isaac calling. We sent Boyd and Gray back home, they were the worst injured." 

Stiles nods, because that makes sense, and then turns to give Isaac a stern look. "Okay, I'm not gonna say I don't appreciate it, but that was fucking stu--" Suddenly a thought hits him and his heart hitches up. He senses more than sees the wolves tense, and Isaac is sitting up and leaning right in his face. The words barely slither out of his mouth. "Do you still have Scott's phone?" 

Scott's password and username may not be 'allison' anymore, but 'scott' and 'password123' aren't much more secure, no matter what the little security bar by his password setup said at the time. 

Isaac rips the phone out of his pocket (and his pants a little in the process) and flings it toward the trees, throwing high. It goes way farther than it ought to. 

"Ever considered baseball instead of lacrosse?" It's out of Stiles's mouth be fore he even knows it's there, and a breathless and semi-hysterical sounding giggle seems to get stuck in Isaac's throat.

 Then Scott is darting one way and Derek is darting another and Isaac looks at Stiles and then looks behind Stiles and is gone in a blur of motion. Stiles remembers how his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. How the set of his mouth firmed up right on the end of that giggle, so it looked like he was trying to press a smile away. 

Stiles remembers the sound of a shot, and then a scream ringing in his ears. 

It is his own. 

" _Isaac_ \--" 

Derek and Scott show no mercy. Stiles sees this, mostly from the corner of his eye, and is immensely grateful. 

The whole thing is over in less than two minutes. Stiles realizing about Scott's phone saved their lives, he knows that. 

But it doesn't fucking matter, because he's pretty sure _Isaac_ is about to die. There's a huge hole in his side, all meat and guts and _blood_ holy fuck there's blood everywhere, is there a such thing as a hollow-point wolfsbane bullet? 

Apparently so, because this shit isn't even _sort-of_ healing. These people were flat-out murderers. And they were _cruel_. 

Stiles is enraged. He also has both hands pressed to the wound even though he knows it has to hurt like hell, both to keep Isaac's insides _inside_ him and to try and staunch the flow of blood. He barks " _Scott_ , bring me one of those guns. _Derek_ , get your ass over here." 

He's not looking at Isaac's face, he's not, he _can't_ , he's afraid he'll see glassy eyes staring at nothing even though he can feel Isaac's stomach move as he takes in air--

But then he feels a hand on his forearm, above his scarlet hands, and it squeezes, so maybe Isaac's not dying after all. 

Then there's a choked sound and okay, Isaac is definitely dying. 

Scott is suddenly there, eyes huge and face ashen, holding out the butt of a gun that trembles in his hands. Scott's holding the barrel. 

Then Derek is across from him, looking at him with wide eyes, and Stiles remembers that he's not that much older than they are. That he's a human being, too. It makes the words that were going to be harsh and terse come out with more urgency instead of anger. 

But Stiles is still infuriated. 

" _Take the fucking gun and get the bullets and do that thing you did that one time with your arm_." 

Derek looks at him blankly for a moment, fear plain on his face, and then he gets it. Stiles _watches_ him get it and he wants to scream because for every second Derek is looking at him with awe _Isaac is bleeding out_ and that hand on him is clutching weaker and weaker-- 

" _Fucking do it!"_ He screams it, a fine spray of spit flies out of his mouth, and Derek takes the gun from Scott, opens up the clip, and starts taking apart the bullets and collecting the dust that falls out of the ends of them in his hand. The bullets are huge, and there's a lot of wolfsbane stuffed inside. 

Illegal hollow-points. 

Stiles fucking _despises_ hunters. 

Finally Derek has a big solid handful, and he looks at Stiles with terrified eyes, the arm holding the wolfsbane twitching jerkily. "I can't hold this for long--" 

Stiles gives Derek a hard look. He's pretty sure he's trying to make the guy drop dead with his eyes. "When the fuck did you become so useless. Give it here, _I'll_ do it, tell me what to do." His voice is _dead_ and it should scare him a little, but it doesn't. What scares him is that the hand on his arm has gone totally limp. 

"It's gonna hurt him a lo--" 

 _"I don't fucking care now give it here!"_ He lifts a trembling, blood-drenched hand. It's darker than the movies. Thicker. Oily-feeling, almost. Derek drops the wolfsbane in his hand and the blood it falls against sizzles with a hiss. 

"Intent--you've got to make it burn the rest of it out of him--like the mountain a--" 

" _Shut the fuck up_." Stiles distributes it evenly in his hands and presses it down into the ragged chunk of flesh that has become Isaac for him. 

Several things flash out at him at once.

 

_be the spark_

 

_imagination is more important than knowledge_

 

_better make him better burn it out of him make it better_

 

_he took the bullet meant for my head this is where my head would've been this would be my brain all over the parking lot he saved my life goddamn it_

 

The amount of pain is incredible. Heat burns through his palms and fingers into his arms, into his shoulders, all over his body spreading and searing like a wildfire, and Isaac's reaction is instantaneous. Stiles can hear his limbs flailing, can taste and smell sour, burning skin and the bitter smell of burning wolfsbane with a slightly more pleasant one, almost like wolfsbane incense mixed in. 

He and Isaac scream as one. Stiles bursts a blood vessel in his eye, his veins stand out clearly in his face and neck, and his fingers twitch against healing skin, every muscle in his body taught and screaming. He is feeling the sinew and muscle and _oh god I think that's intestine_ knitting back together, building back up until his blood soaked hands are pressed against white skin, smooth and soft as a baby's. 

Finally he runs out of air, and he collapses backward, into darkness.


End file.
